Can't Blame Everything on the Pheromones
by audi katia
Summary: Was green your favorite color as a kid?"


_What's that? Two new stories in one day? The muses have been kind to me today and want me to write as much as possible before I go back to school on Tuesday. I won't have as much free time then. Unfortunately. :(_

_This was so much fun to write! I'm falling in love with this pairing. I hope you all like it as much as I do!_

_**Disclaimer**: So, I still don't own Star Trek. Nothing's changed since I posted a disclaimer a few hours ago._

* * *

The first thing he notices is her skin. It's green and flawless and he wants to see more of what's hidden under her uniform.

Good Lord above them, is that an engineering symbol on her insignia? (Honestly, he was just trying to see what division she was in. Not staring at her in any lecherous way.)

He gulps.

This could either be the best thing that's ever happened to him or this could be a nightmare in the making. She looks like she's capable of either.

* * *

"Gaila."

He's been staring at her long enough, she finally acknowledged him.

"Scotty," he mutters, looking away abashedly.

"I know," she says simply, folding her arms behind her head.

Stupid. Of course she knew who he was, he was her commanding officer in Engineering.

But she doesn't look angry or affronted that he did not know her name. (Actually, he's known her name since that first day when he looked her up. The PADD almost broke under his fingers, he typed so quickly.)

* * *

Learning about different alien cultures was mandatory when he attended Starfleet Academy and he knows all about her physiology. It's those damn pheromones that make him stare.

Yes, she's an attractive lass, regardless of her race, but it's the pheromones that drive him so crazy. That's all.

* * *

He wonders if she knows how distracting she is.

He tries to rearrange his work schedule to avoid being near her for too long, but she's a step ahead of him in this little game of cat and mouse.

When he arrives at work, no matter what time, he sees her already at her station examining PADDS or tinkering away on the Enterprise.

"Hello, Scotty," she smiles when he enters, never failing to wave when she sees him.

He needs a few extra trips to the bathroom to take care of… well, a few things, but he learns to work with her without too much trouble.

* * *

Damn her.

It's been almost a month and he _swears_ that her skirt is even shorter. If he had a stronger will power, he'd complain to the captain about making all the lasses wear regulation pants as part of their uniforms.

Those legs are toned and long and lightly crossed as she's leaning against a spare wall, reading instructions for the new installations.

He hasn't even realized he was blatantly staring until she coughs gently. He looks up to see her blue eyes grinning at him

"Was green your favorite color as a kid?"

He blushes.

* * *

"You were on Delta Vega for a month."

She comes out of nowhere, sitting on the floor beside him, her legs crossed childishly.

"Yes, lass, I was," he answers. He's used to her sudden appearances and does not even look up from his tools when he talks to her.

"You created transwarp beaming." She never asks questions. She only states what she knows and waits for confirmation.

Her head is cocked to the side, staring at him unblinkingly. He refuses to look back at her because he knows that if he does, he'll have to take a bathroom break immediately afterwards.

"I dinnae create it. I just discovered it."

He has to remind himself that it's her pheromones that make her smell so good, that make her so attractive to him.

"You're brilliant."

Her words make him sit up so quickly that his head bangs against the underside of the panel he's working on.

Rubbing the back of his sore head, he stares at her and feels as though his drowning in her compliment.

She's beaming back at him, her golden lips curved gently on her face.

"I think we should be friends," she declares, tucking a runaway curl behind her ear.

* * *

"Scotty, dear, come help me with this," she calls over to him, her head sticking out awkwardly from the Jefferies tube she's managed to get herself into.

"Can ye not ask someone else?"

He's not busy or anything, but it's the first day that she hasn't worn her hair up in a braid. All that hair falling loose around her face, shining in the light, loose strands looking like molten gold lost in a fire.

It's driving him crazy. Damn pheromones.

"I suppose," she half-shrugs in her horizontal position.

(He wills away the images of her in a different horizontal position.)

"But I'd rather have you help me," she practically purrs, lifting a single red eyebrow.

Like he's going to say no after that.

* * *

"You know, you're the first man who's talked to me for more than five minutes and hasn't tried to kiss me," she informs him one day.

He's busy watching her hold the lead pipe idly in her elegant hand, twirling it between her long fingers, but he's not so far gone in his (dirty) observations that he can't smile and shrug.

"Someone 'as to be the gentleman."

She looks at him with a curious expression before she smiles brighter than the sun.

* * *

One day, one of the other ensigns who's practically drooling at the mouth asks her why she never became a model or an actress. It would have been so easy, everyone knows.

She glances down at her greasy fingertips with pride, clearly happy with the decisions she's made. She knows she's more than just a pretty face and a rocking body.

"Oh, honey, I don't need any help being any more glamorous than I already am."

When she turns around, she ignores the ensign and looks directly at Scotty. Her hair whips around her, flashing enticingly in the light.

She winks.

* * *

The good doctor is always available for a bit of conversation and, more importantly, a glass of burning liquid.

Two glasses of scotch later and he's telling McCoy all about the green-skinned temptress in the engineering rooms.

"She's ah nice lass, funny, and talkin' to her is better than talking to Keenser. For obvious reasons," Scotty explains (he's only slurring his words a little at his point and he's not talking in a high frustrated voice at all). "But it's just those damn pheromones. Can't trust 'em worth a credit!"

McCoy chuckles into his glass, downing the liquid down in one gulp. (Scotty notices the golden liquid is the same color as her lips, but he ignores the thought.)

"She's been taken pheromone supplements since we boarded months ago. Chapel's been administering them in Sick Bay. Any scent she's givin' off is just her perfume."

Scotty's not sure, but he thinks his jaw just hit the floor.

* * *

"I talked to McCoy," she announces the next day, miraculously appearing out of nowhere to stand by his side.

His heart is racing, but this time he can't blame it on the pheromones.

He misses his scapegoat because now he has to start accepting realities that he's not ready to face yet.

"He told me that you didn't know I was taking pheromone supplements."

He doesn't acknowledge or deny, he just focuses on the work in front of him.

One slim hand tipped in silver nail polish grips his shoulder tight, turning him around to face the beautiful woman in front of him.

"You want to kiss me."

She never asks questions. She only states what she knows, but this time she doesn't wait for confirmation.

Too many times, he wondered what those gold lips tasted like. Of all his assumptions, none of them compare to the real thing.

As quickly as it started, it ends.

That wicked grin is back on place in her face, her eyes glinting with victory, her hair loose around her face in all its flaming glory.

"About time," she coos. "I'll see you at dinner."

She walks away, leaving him dumbstruck with his tools falling out of his slacked hands onto the floor with a clatter.

"And that's not a request."

He grins like a maniac. Like anyone could ever deny her.

* * *

_Please review!_


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